


covetous

by orphan_account



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Feels, M/M, Mentions of Lunoct, Porn, Straight up cheating fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-15 05:19:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13024062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He knows he should move, should walk away, should try to restore some semblance of professionalism between them. But he’s shaking and he can barely breathe and he knows he’s hanging by a thread, that at any moment could snap and his resolve will shatter instantly.Canon divergence. The treaty is actually signed, the wedding actually happens, and Noctis and Luna are married. Set just over a year after the wedding takes place.





	covetous

**Author's Note:**

> This is a straight up cheating fic. So there's that.
> 
> Not sure how I feel about this, but I needed to get this out of my system. I love me some porn, angst, and feels and I got carried away with the feels.
> 
> Please enjoy!

He knows he should say no.

If it wasn’t improper before, it certainly is now. It was one thing for the prince and his advisor to be lovers; it’s entirely another now that the prince is married, to the _Oracle_ no less, as part of a _peace treaty_ between Lucis and Niflheim. Had they been caught before, the likely consequences would have been, at best, a slap on the wrist from the council, and at worst, separation of the two and his removal as the prince’s advisor.

The repercussions now are far more vast than before, now that the very future of Lucis hangs in the balance. The inevitable consequences of them being discovered now, not laid out to the letter in writing, but not hard for a strategist like himself to imagine: the revocation of the treaty should his marriage to Lunafreya fall apart, inevitable invasion of Insomnia by the Empire, him being sentenced to death, swinging of the sword at his own execution.

The heartbreak on his liege’s face.

But they’re so close now their breath is mingling together, starlit eyes gazing into his so full of _want_ , porcelain skin glowing in the soft moonlight as it shines in through the windows of his apartment, gentle curves of his lips waiting to be kissed. He’s keenly aware of how agonizingly silent and still the air is between them. His heart is pounding in his ears. His fingers on his right hand are twitching, aching to reach out. There’s so much pressure in his chest, he thinks his heart may burst.

Noctis hasn’t looked this beautiful since his wedding night.

There’s a blunt ache in his heart at the memory. He wore the mask of feigned happiness for his friend, his charge, keeping it steady through their vows, toasts, dances. Despite the prince’s previous protests and reluctance, that night changed him. As the party wore on, the advisor caught glimpses of the newlyweds exchanging soft, genuine smiles, the prince taking the Oracle’s hand and grasping it affectionately, the now husband and wife getting lost in one another’s eyes before leaning in for a kiss.

It had been too much. He knew he had been staring too long, looking at the pair far too longingly for someone who was simply a friend, an _advisor_ , yearning for something—some _one_ —that was never his to keep.

He tried to be discrete. The musicians had started to play, another waltz, one he was sure would keep the groom occupied. A side door of the banquet hall provided the perfect escape onto the balcony. Inconspicuous, unextraordinary, unlikely to attract any attention.

So he had thought.

A soft, delicate voice called his name and he rushed to wipe the tears from his eyes. Hesitant fingers brushed his own, lingering longer than a friendly gesture should have, intertwining with his far too intimately for someone decidedly not the other’s lover—or spouse.

He should have dismissed his charge right then, should have rejected his too inviting hands, should have kept his gaze fixed in any direction but his face. Like a fool, he turned around, and the prince’s expression broke him. Starlit eyes so full of yearning, regret, _love_. The moon glowed on his white skin, glittered across his royal suit and regalia, glinted just enough off of the band of silver he swore his vows over mere hours before. He can’t help but think how his prince suddenly looks so much like a king.

He let Noctis cup his wet cheeks in his hands and wipe away his tears. He let him say his name and confess things he should have left at the altar.

_I still love you._

He looked away and bit his lip so hard he drew blood.

Those hands guided him back, against all propriety and decorum. A protest was on the tip of his tongue. He should have said it. He should have said a lot of things. He was too slow and his words were immediately swallowed before he could voice them by lips crashing into his. Their hands were everywhere and he could taste his tears in the other’s mouth. It was urgent and sloppy and _awful_.

It’s the memory that has lulled him to sleep every single night for the past year.

His fingers move of their own accord, reaching up to brush the smooth skin of the prince’s cheek. It’s like lighting, the jolt that ripples through him at the contact. Another hand, not his own, reaches up and grasps his tightly. He nearly melts at the warm kiss on his palm. There’s a flash of light as his hand moves, _his wedding ring_. Those long eyelashes flutter close, lost in the tenderness of the moment. His heart skips a beat and threatens to stop completely when those eyes open again, capturing his, refusing to let go.

He suppresses the gasp in his throat and forces himself to look away.

“We _can’t_.”

A hand rests on his cheek and gently turns him back, and his heart catches in his throat, the proximity between them now even smaller. His eyes dart directly to his mouth, so close to his own now, so begging for attention. He forces himself to start breathing manually, consciously inhaling and exhaling, utilizing every ounce of his self-control.

And yet, all he can think about is the sound of his own name falling carelessly from those lips.

“Ignis. I love you.”

He removes the other man’s hand from his face, but doesn’t let go of it, holding it tightly in his own. He grips onto him so hard he thinks he may break if he lets go. He shuts his eyes, trying to block out all of the images of Imperial dreadnaughts descending from the sky and his lover gasping in the throes of lovemaking and Insomnia burning for days on end and the tight heat of the prince’s most intimate place and the tears on his love’s face as the executioner swings. “Noctis, don’t, _please_ —”

He knows it’s not enough to deter the man before him, nothing ever is. His stubbornness is the worst and best quality about him, the thing that makes his advisor want to both pull his own hair out and kiss him all over. He wishes the prince would direct his determined nature towards his role as future king, _current_ husband to the Oracle, symbol of the peace between two warring nations.

His charge leans forward, attempting to close the distance between them, and it takes all of his strength to turn his head so that the prince’s kiss lands on his cheek instead his lips. He closes his eyes, bracing himself for the other’s reaction. He can _hear_ Noctis’s heart breaking, feel the sob he chokes back, and opens his eyes just in time to see tears rolling down his cheeks.

“ _Gods_ , Noctis. You have no idea how much this is killing me.”

There’s a flash of anger across Noct’s face and he is genuinely frightened by the glare he receives. Ripping his hands away, he angrily wipes his tears with his sleeve. “You’re right, Ignis, because you fucking _abandoned_ me.”

He flinches at the sudden venom in Noctis’s words.

He flinches because he knows Noctis isn’t wrong.

Since the wedding, he’s kept his distance. Despite being in each other’s presence virtually all day, every day, it’s not terribly difficult to keep their schedules as separate as possible. Aside from council meetings, security briefings, and combat training, he’s managed to pass off many of his duties to other servants and chambermaids now that the prince is married. He knows this deliberate arrangement designed to avoid being alone with him hasn’t gone unnoticed; he sees in Noctis’s eyes on the rare occasion they make eye contact, hears it in his passive aggressive attempts at conversation, feels it lingering in the air long after he’s left the room.

Neither of them have made any effort to talk things out and salvage some form of a working relationship. Any chance of a forced friendship, at this point, is nonexistent. If anyone else has noticed, they haven’t said anything, at least not to Ignis. Save for a few choice glances from Gladio and Cor, occasional stuttering from Prompto, and uncomfortable shifting from Lunafreya, everyone else has silently agreed to awkwardly avoid of the subject entirely.

The adult, professional side of him has known such a state of affairs can’t possibly last. There’s too much at stake, Noctis’s preparation to be sovereign being the most consequential and the most likely to suffer from their silent bickering. Their working relationship is far too important for there to be such tension between them, and they spend far too much time together with such unbridled anger lingering just below the surface, ready to snap at any time. He knows he’s irrevocably damaged their relationship, and he should have attempted to heal their raw wounds months ago.

But every time he sees Noctis’s face, looks into his eyes, all he can picture is _his_ Noctis. The awkward teenage boy who nervously confessed his love, bratty would-be monarch who refused to eat his vegetables, alluring young man who gasped his name the first time their touches became far too intimate for a prince and his servant. He can’t reconcile the Noctis of his mind’s eye with this one, the one on his wife’s arm, the one who goes home every night and makes love to someone who isn’t Ignis, the one he’ll never wake up next to again and press kisses to his dark hair while he sleeps. Every second they’re in the same room _hurts_ so much he can barely breathe. He knows he’s being selfish and pushing Noctis away in a feeble attempt to protect himself, he knows this hurts Noctis, too, but his heart breaking in his chest _every single time_ he sees him is more than he can take.

Noctis realizes how deep his words cut, and presses his balled fists to his eyes and cries.

“Fuck, Ignis, I’m sorry.” Noctis’s voice is watery and punctuated by sobs as he wipes the tears from his face with the back of his sleeve. His heart swells, painfully, with the desperate need to reach out and kiss away his love’s tears, hold him tightly to his chest, tell him everything will be okay and he’ll take care of it all and he’ll always be there to protect him from every single thing that will ever harm him, _always_. He balls his hands into fists and pinches the bridge of his nose hard, too hard, trying desperately to keep himself from falling apart.

The sound of his charge’s voice breaks his heart. “I know I’m being childish and selfish and taking everything out on you and I know it’s not fair. I just, I _miss_ you, I miss you so fucking much and it hurts. And I know you’re hurting too, and it’s your job to be composed about everything, but you being so calm and removed from all of this makes me think you don’t care—”

That breaks him, just like Ignis knew it would, and in two long strides he’s encircling Noctis in his arms, trying desperately to hold him together as he falls apart. Noctis openly sobs and balls Ignis’s shirt in his fists. There’s a wet spot on his shirt now, and as it gets bigger, Ignis feels his resolve slowly eroding away.

“By the Six, Noctis,” he breathes into his dark hair, drinking in every ounce of the prince’s scent he can. He needs to memorize it, to burn into his memory forever; it will have to last him the rest of his life. “I will _always_ care for you.”

Noctis noticeably trembles in his arms. Reflexively, he tightens his embrace, hoping the prince absorbs his love by osmosis. He needs him to know, to understand, that the past year hasn’t changed anything, that he would still stand between Noctis and the world if he could, if it would make his pain go away. If it would let them be together once more.

Noctis’s voice is so small and sad. “I was scared you’d leave. I’m still scared.”

He shakes his head against his hair, pressing a kiss against his temple, against all of his better judgment.

“I will live out my days by your side, no matter what happens.”

He feels Noctis pulling away, and he lightens his grip. Just barely.

Those eyes look directly into his, red and rimmed with tears. The sight nearly makes him collapse to his knees and sob for hours or maybe years until there’s nothing left.

“Ignis. Do you… Do you still love me?”

_Astrals._

He presses his forehead against Noct’s, breathing deeply, his hands coming up to cradle Noctis’s cheekbones. They’re so, _so_ close now, his fingers are shaking and his heart is pounding and the room is spinning and _gods_ he wants, wants so badly to kiss those lips so close to his own and never stop.

He feels it, then, the pinprick of tears behind his eyes. Shutting them tightly, hoping to keep them at bay, he chokes back a sob and they slide down his face anyway. Breathe; in, out, in, out.

His voice is barely above a whisper.

“I have _always_ loved you. I’ve never stopped. And I never will.”

Warm hands wipe away his tears. He knows he should move, should walk away, should try to restore some semblance of professionalism between them. He should do what he should have done the night of the wedding and put this entire affair to rest. But he’s shaking and he can barely breathe and he knows he’s hanging by a thread, that at any moment could snap and his resolve will shatter instantly.

He’s trying to breathe, in and out, when he feels those lips pressing a gentle kiss against his forehead. One, two, then another five or six along his temple and jaw. His lungs stop working when they reach his own.

He shatters.

With a desperate sigh, he knots his fingers into the hair on the back of Noctis’s neck and kisses him like he’s never kissed anyone in his life. The gasp against his lips sparks a fire in his chest he knows he’ll never be able to extinguish. Noctis kisses him hungrily, greedily, pressing their bodies impossibly close. He knows he’s ruined; ruined for anyone else, for maintaining any pretense of professionalism around this man again, for helping him live a lie he never believed himself. With every kiss, Noctis fans the flames, and he knows he’ll soon be completely consumed.

One would think the threat of a thinly veiled sham of a treaty would be enough to keep his head on straight. The very real possibility of the olive branch, the very _thing_ the entire treaty hinges upon, the Crown Prince’s _marriage_ , shooting up into flames as a result of their clandestine love affair would be enough. At this point, such an infraction would rightly be treated as treason. The mental image, not hard for a military genius like Ignis to imagine, of a full-scale invasion of the city, his home, by Imperial dreadnaughts. The realization that whole thing is entirely Ignis’s fault, only a hair’s width away from treason, and his sentencing to death. The devastation on the face of the man he loves more than anything else that has ever existed as he watches, helplessly, as his life is sliced from his shoulders.

One would think.

But the only thing that has ever been enough is Noctis.

Their mouths crash together over and over, biting at each other’s lips and gasping into each other’s throats. Fumbling hands grasp at their hair and clothing, trying to find something, _anything_ , to anchor themselves. The prince’s lips start traveling now, down his neck and across his collarbone. Deft fingers start working at the buttons on his shirt, and he knows, _knows_ , that they shouldn’t do this, it’s not fair to Luna, Noctis has a treaty to uphold, Ignis could be _fucking executed_ should word of their tryst reach the wrong ears. He knows this what he wants more than anything else.

He tries, lamely and with no real effort, to push Noctis off, only successfully getting his thirsty kisses to focus back on his face.

“Noctis, gods, _please_. We can’t. I beg of you.”

The prince’s voice is low, dangerously low, so full of want it settles deep in Ignis’s groin and he feels pressure start to build between his legs. “You’re not trying very hard to stop me.”

And truth be told, he’s not. He makes next to no movement to stop Noctis from undoing all of the buttons on his shirt, pushing the fronts apart, running his hands down Ignis’s bare torso. Unabashedly, he lets out a pleasured gasp when Noctis’s roaming mouth makes its way to his ear and draws it between his teeth. His eyes carelessly slide closed and his fingers tighten in those dark locks, despite the numerous alarms going off in his head telling him _stopstopstop_.

Noctis pauses. He opens his eyes and looks down at the man before him. The prince’s eyes are dark with desire.

“If you want me to stop,” he says quietly, “I’ll stop. But only if it’s what _you_ want. Not because of the treaty.”

“What of—”

“Or because of Luna.”

He pauses.

“Do you love her?”

Noctis’s face twists into an annoyed expression. “What?”

He looks down at him evenly. “Do you love her, Noctis?”

The air around them is heavy and still. An insufferable silence settles between them. It’s several long seconds or maybe entire millennia before Noctis responds.

“…yes.”

Ignis bristles. “Then go _home_. Go to her. This isn’t fair to—”

“Luna knows about us.”

_Fuck._

That stops his heart completely. He can feel all of the blood draining from his face and he swallows hard. He’s now _very_ aware of Noctis’s hands still resting on his chest, of his fucking _wedding ring_ on his left hand, of how close they’re standing. A fire in his throat that feels distinctly like bile starts working its way up his throat and he wants to vomit. He doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry, if he’s angry or relieved, if he should collapse or scream.

Noctis must notice the panic is setting in, because he’s saying Ignis’s name over and over, shaking his shoulders, trying to get him to come back.

“Ignis, it’s okay.” He cups Ignis’s cheeks, holding his gaze steady. “She—”

“Does she know you’re here now?”

“Well, no—”

“Then what _does_ she know, Noctis?” There’s more anger in his voice than he meant. Noctis visibly flinches at the fury in his voice and steps back, removing his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me? What have you told her?”

“She knows how I feel about you. I told her when I first realized how I felt about you when I was fifteen. Before I told you, even. She was the first person to know. She knows we were a thing before she and I got married.”

Ignis immediately remembers the night a young, seventeen-year-old Noctis nervously stepped too close, too close for a prince and his servant, and glanced up at him through the fringe of his dark bangs. His eyes were brimming with nerves and wonder and something a nineteen-year-old Ignis had hoped, desperately, was love. He remembers Noctis’s eyes fluttering closed, his heart pounding in his chest, and their lips brushing softly, just for a moment. 

He remembers Noctis pulling away, hiding his flushed, embarrassed face in Ignis’s shirt, and his quiet, _I love you, Ignis_.

It was the happiest night of his life.

“Noctis.” He turns around, squeezing his eyes shut. The memory of Noctis’s kisses and his hands on him make it hard to speak, and he forces the words out before he changes his mind. “She is your _wife_. I cannot, in good conscience, participate in any sort of extra-marital affair. It’s not fair to her. I’m sorry.”

For a long, agonizing moment, it’s silent.

“…I’ll go, then.”

Noctis turns to leave. He feels his heart walking away with him.

 

“Wait.”

Glancing over his shoulder, he catches Noctis’s gaze. His eyes— _have they always been so blue?_ —burn with such intense longing, it makes Ignis’s heart throb with want. So much, he steps towards Noctis again and cups his face in his hands, ignoring all of his better judgment and every rational thought telling him to stop.

“Every night, before I fall asleep,” Ignis murmurs, “I think about that night. The night you confessed your feelings to me, the first time you kissed me.” Noctis smiles at the memory, but quickly looks away and bites his lip, attempting to hold back his tears.

His fingertips trace along Noctis’s cheekbones, catching a stray tear. “And then I think about your wedding night. You looked so handsome. Regal, like your father.” He leans forward to press a kiss into Noctis’s hair and bury his nose in the smooth locks. Noctis’s arms come up to wrap around his middle, his small frame shuddering with a stifled sob. He lets himself thread his fingers through the soft strands, allows himself far too many kisses along the crown of the prince’s head. “I think about the last time I held you in my arms and kissed you, and I wish, desperately, that I still could.”

“You know I didn’t want to get married,” Noct’s voice is shaking as he cries. “You know I didn’t have a choice. You know I had to because of that fucking treaty.”

“Of course I do.” Pulling back, he tilts Noctis’s face up to meet his gaze. “That’s precisely the point, Noctis. At this point, because of the treaty, anything you and I do is grounds for treason—”

“Ignis—”

“And I’m _terrified_ ,” he croaks, voice breaking into a sob. He lets the tears he’s been holding back spill down his face, and Noctis’s hands are there in an instant, wiping them away and littering his cheeks in kisses. “If we’re discovered, I will be charged with treason and executed—”

“I won’t let that happen,” Noctis cuts him off. His hands press against his cheekbones harder, and he looks up at Ignis now with fierce resolve. “Ignis, I won’t them hurt you.”

“But, Noctis—”

“I _won’t_ let them,” he repeats firmly. “I swear, Ignis, if anyone tries to take you from me, I’ll destroy them.”

Noctis leans in and kisses him again, so softly and so gently, Ignis nearly melts to the floor. Loving arms pull him in close, the tender touches pulling on his weakest heartstrings, and he knows he’s done for. Every last piece of his resistance crumbles away under the prince’s affections.

Noct’s voice is soft and rough with want. “I want you, Ignis. If you want me, you can have me.”

Pulling back, Noctis gazes up at him, eyes soft.

“And I won’t let _anything_ happen to you. I promise.”

Suddenly, he can't remember any of those silly reasons he tried to reject him. All he can remember is how much his heart aches every time he sees Noctis, watches him smile lovingly at someone who isn’t himself, catches a glimpse of the ring around his finger binding him to someone else. How his hands twitch, desperate to reach out, pull him close, and never let go. How he misses Noctis _so fucking much_ , and stubbornly refuses to admit it to himself. How he wishes, late at night and alone in his bed, that it was Noctis’s tight heat wrapped around his cock instead of his own hand. How he would give _anything_ to be with him again.

He decides, at least for tonight, that's all that really matters.

He kisses Noctis so hard, it catches the other by surprise and nearly topples him over. His lips kiss faster than his brain can process and he kisses a trail down Noct’s neck, the taught muscles there shaking with a groan of satisfaction and victory. Finding the hem of Noct’s black shirt, fingers shaking, he pushes the material up, pressing his palms into every hill and valley as he exposes them, his memory of the curves and edges of Noctis’s body guiding him. The soft melody of Noctis gasping quietly and sighing his name fill his ears, and if Ignis had any thought of stopping before, it’s completely gone now.

Noctis grabs his hand and takes off for his bedroom, pulling him along behind. The moment the door shuts behind him, Noctis is shoving him up against it and pressing their bodies close, kissing him hard and rough, all tongue and teeth. Teasingly, he draws Ignis’s bottom lip between his teeth, dragging along slowly, until it pops out of his mouth. He tries to suppress the groan in his throat, but can’t keep it under control when he feels those lips move to his neck, kissing and nipping at his skin.

The prince grumbles against his lips, something about too many clothes, then pulls Ignis’s half-removed shirt down his arms, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor. Hot kisses trail down his throat, pausing over the spot that must now have quite the bite mark, then continue down his torso. Warm hands dip below his waistband and push his pants and underwear down in one messy motion. 

Regaining his balance for just a moment, he hazards a glance down at Noctis on his knees before him, just long enough to see Noctis’s lips close over his cock.

Clawing helplessly at Noct’s hair, Ignis throws his head back and gasps, barely aware of hitting the back of his head against the wall behind him. Distantly, he can hear Noctis laughing in his throat. One of Noct’s hands wraps around his cock and strokes along with his bobbing head, while the other tugs his pants and underwear down to his ankles.

He’s lost any semblance of self-control at this point, and every manner of pleasured sound falls helplessly from his mouth. His hands are everywhere, in Noct’s hair, pulling at his clothes, clawing at the wall behind him. Noctis hums pleasantly through it all, like it’s the best thing in the world, like he’s never been happier.

Ignis can’t remember the last time Noctis sounded so happy.

Noctis pulls off with an exaggerated pop, then buries his face in Ignis’s groin, kissing everywhere his lips can reach. Beneath him, Noctis’s touches grow more and more aggressive, his hands grasping at his skin greedily and his kisses turning into bites.

“I’ve thought about that so many times,” he practically growls. Ignis’s eyes just barely crack open and he catches a glimpse of Noctis staring back up at him, his eyes glowing wild and fierce. “Every time I see you, it’s all I can think about.” Burying his face again, he murmurs quietly, “Every time I jerk off, this is what I think about.”

He can’t help the groan he releases at the thought, the idea of Noctis sprawled out over royal bed linens, naked and hard, pulling furiously at his own cock, imagining himself on his knees sucking Ignis off, masturbating to the idea of pleasuring someone who is absolutely _not_ the woman he’s married to.

Briefly, Ignis wonders if Noctis pictures him, too, when he’s making love to his wife.

The mental image of Noctis in bed with someone else, being touched and pleasured by _someone else_ , ignites an ugly, possessive fire inside of him, and incinerates whatever shred of propriety he had left. Deep in his chest, everything burns with bitter, angry, poisonous jealousy, ready to consume him and hijack his higher faculties. His fingers curl tightly into Noctis’s hair, and he hauls him to his feel, kissing him quickly before his dark, covetous thoughts burst from his lips. He kisses him hard and bruising, the words _mine_ and _love_ and _forever_ burned into each kiss.

Noctis kisses him back, blissfully unaware of the dark thoughts haunting Ignis’s heart. His muffled groans and submission to Ignis’s selfish, fiery kisses are just enough to quell the burning, vicious anger.

Just barely.

He finds the hem of Noctis’s shirt again and pulls it upwards, until it’s off and over his head and on the floor. Before he can get his hands on the other man’s pants, Noctis is unfastening his belt, popping open the button, and undoing the zipper, pushing them down along with his underwear. Ignis catches a glance of his hard, dark red cock before Noctis pulls him in for another demanding kiss, and his mouth waters and he _wants_.

They awkwardly stumble through the room to Ignis’s bed, tumbling down onto it gracelessly. Noctis scoots up towards the headboard, relaxing against the pillows, and Ignis follows immediately, pressing their fully naked bodies together and groaning at the contact. The warmth of their bare skin flush against one another sends a jolt up Ignis's spine and he can't help the soft moan that tumbles from his lips.

He can feel the other man’s stiff erection pressing into him, and groans into their kisses as it ruts against his own with a roll of Noct’s hips. He meets Ignis’s grinding with his own, and their hips move in tandem with each other, picking up in pressure and speed until their sense of rhythm is gone and their movements are frantic and impatient.

He dives in for another kiss kissing him again, mouthing at Noctis’s jaw, neck, collarbone, shoulders, anywhere he can reach. Sighing, Noctis melts against the pillows, his fingers knotting into Ignis’s hair as he lays wet kisses across his throat.

“Ignis,” Noctis whimpers. “Please, I’m so close already, I don’t want this to be over so soon, I—”

Smirking, Ignis slows his hips, and sits up.

The sight takes his breath away: his prince gazing back at him, eyes glazed over and heavy with bliss, face hot and flushed, back arched in ecstasy, erection swollen and leaking against his stomach. He pauses, admiring, drinking in the sight, recalling how his memory pales in comparison to the real thing. He melts forward, ravishing the planes of his lover’s stomach with kisses.

“ _Gods_ , I’ve missed you,” he murmurs against the other man’s skin. Glancing up to catch a glimpse of Noctis’s face, his heart swells at the sight of carefree euphoria on his face. “How do you—?”

Noctis’s voice is breathless and uneven. “I want you inside of me.”

The request cuts off all rational thought. He kisses every inch of white-hot skin his lips can reach and relishes in the quiet moans he draws out from the man beneath him. Trailing down eager hips, already thrusting into Ignis’s touch, he pauses in between Noctis’s trembling thighs and takes him into his mouth.

Frantic hands grab at his hair and frenzied gasps and curses tumble from Noctis’s mouth. Dragging his mouth long and slow and up and down, teasing as he takes his time and aroused groans slipping out around Noctis’s cock in his mouth. He reacquaints himself with every detail, swirling his tongue around the head, then pressing flat against the underside as he sucks long and hard.

A sharp wave of realization hits him, of how much he’s missed this, missed _Noctis_ , and suddenly all of those consequences Ignis was beside himself with worry over seem so far away. Nothing else matters. Nothing compares to Noctis chanting his name, pulling him back up for starved kisses, begging him to fuck him. “ _Please_ , I want you so badly.”

This man makes him so weak and so foolish. He’s never denied him anything, against every reservation and all of his better judgment. It’s worth it, somehow, against every logical and rational thought, to see Noctis smile, hear him moan, make him fall apart and come incoherently.

He’ll never love anything or anyone more than him.

Noctis fishes out lube from the bedside table and hands it over. Popping open the cap, he smears lube on his fingers, then gently circles the soft, puckered skin before slipping a finger inside, reveling in the soft whimpers and gasps falling from Noct’s lips. Noctis initially clenches around him, slowly relaxing as Ignis massages him. He sees the moment Noctis surrenders to his bliss, eyes glazing over, one hand tangling in his black hair and the other gripping his own cock and languidly stroking himself. Ignis slips in another finger, gently stretching him open, leaning down to trail kisses along the inside of his thighs.

Back arching, moans slipping out indiscriminately, Noctis whines impatiently, cursing and demanding. He’s determined to take his time and make this last, however unwilling to wait Noctis may be; for all he knows, this is the last time he’ll ever get his prince like this. He wants this memory burned into his consciousness for the rest of his life.

“Fucking Shiva, Ignis.” Noctis is completely delirious now. Head thrown back against the pillows, throat exposed, legs spread shamelessly, hips bucking uncontrolled and careless. The sight of it tests Ignis’s restraint, and he has to consciously talk himself down from abandoning all gentleness and slamming into him, unrestrained and uncontrolled. “Please, just _fuck me_ already.”

Smirking, he places one last teasing kiss and carefully pulls out his fingers. “Impatient.”

True to form, Noctis grabs the lube impatiently and slicks up Ignis’s cock. Surprised, he gasps and lets his head fall back at the sensation, exhaling slowly, a pleasured shiver working its way up his spine as Noctis strokes him. He hears Noctis sit up and he sighs as his neck is covered in hot, wet kisses.

It’s been far too long and he’s so sensitive, he’s sure he could come from this alone.

Removing his hand, Noctis seeks out his lips and kisses him, laying back down and pulling Ignis down on top of him. Pulling away, he situates himself, taking several deep breaths to keep his composure, and braces himself on his forearms on either side of Noctis’s head and knots his fingers in his dark hair.

Lining up his cock, he glances up, just to make sure this is what the other really wants. Noctis nods.

The tip just barely presses inside that soft ring of muscle and they both groan, kissing messily and moaning into each other’s mouths. He slides forward until he’s completely buried inside, Noctis clenching around him and biting Ignis’s lips in between breathless moans and _gods_ how he’s missed this.

He swears uncharacteristically, overwhelmed by how agonizingly wonderful Noctis feels, by just how long it’s been since they last did this. Taking deep, labored breaths to keep himself from driving into him mercilessly, he catches Noct’s eyes. “Am I hurting you?”

Noctis shakes his head and smiles.

It’s the warmest, most genuine smile he’s seen on the prince’s face in far, far too long. Noctis gazes up at him, earnest and adoring, eyes so, so soft, and Ignis’s heart leaps in his chest when he realizes they’re rimmed with tears. His lover’s hands come up to cradle his face, caressing his temple and jaw delicately. They map out the contours of his face, almost as if trying to memorize it. Those hands tug him down for a kiss, warm and gentle and _perfect_.

He’s home.

A tsunami of memories and nostalgia, of the countless times they made love, before everything permanently and irrevocably changed, before so-called treaties and feigned weddings, of how hard the past year has been, dancing around each other so carefully and delicately in a desperate effort to avoid tearing each other apart. He’s pushed his feelings down into the deepest corners of his heart, repressed every inkling of them, unable to reconcile the ache of missing holding his lover in his arms with the reality of never being able to again, and never allowed himself to imagine what it would be like if he ever got the chance to. The reality of being reunited with Noctis like this, it’s more than he was even remotely prepared for. It all hits him so forcefully, he can’t help but bury his face in Noctis’s neck and weep.

Tender, loving hands stroke his hair and neck. “Ignis? Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Forgive me,” he whimpers, voice watery. He curls his fingers into tighter into Noct’s hair, squeezing his hips between his thighs, gripping onto him in any way he can. Trying to regain his composure, he takes a long, shaky breath, and exhales slowly. Noctis rubs soothing circles on his back and peppers his hair with kisses, whispers to him that it’s okay and he’s right here and he’s _not going anywhere_.

Once he’s put himself back together, just barely, he pulls back and meets those eyes, looking back at him just like they always have, full of love and devotion. Noctis wipes his tears, kissing him everywhere.

“I’ve missed this.” His heart blossoms when Noctis smiles up at him. “I’ve missed _you_. Being around you, it hurts too much. I pushed you away—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Noctis murmurs. “Can we, uh, continue this conversation after?”

Smiling foolishly, he nods. “Of course.”

It’s like a switch is flipped in his head. He’s suddenly very, _very_ aware of how badly he wants to fuck Noctis into the mattress. He pulls out about halfway, then slams back into the writhing body below him, probably harder than he should have for how long it’s been and how sensitive they both are. But Noctis is crying out blissfully, begging him for more, his hands flying up to claw at the pillows. A small smile creeps across his face, remembering he’s the only one who can reduce Noctis to this, an inarticulate moaning mess, bring him to the edge of sanity, make him beg like his life depends on it.

He thrusts in again, Noctis moaning loudly and gripping his shoulders so tight, he’s sure they’ll bruise. Pressure building in his groin, he plunges in again and again. Getting a rhythm going, pleasured sighs escape his lips and he loses himself in the heat, in _Noctis_. Below him, his lover, his prince, is babbling unintelligibly, his gasps becoming more and more frequent as Ignis pounds into him. His hands are everywhere, grasping at Ignis’s hair, his back, his ass, anywhere he can find purchase.

He feels himself letting go, letting himself get lost, letting the fire consume him.

They lose track of time and space. Minutes or maybe millennia go by, neither of them really sure or keeping track. All of the anger, frustration, heartbreak, everything melts away. Everything else is so far away now, it’s like nothing even exists except this. A long, breathy sigh, and all he knows is love.

He slams into him now as hard as he can, his orgasm just barely out of reach. Noctis is arching off the bed, crying out with every _smack_ of skin, gasping desperately whenever Ignis hits him _right there_. Intensely and suddenly, he’s overwhelmed with a fierce need to see this man fall apart, moan his name over and over again, come like he never has in his life, forget all of the pain and longing and sadness. Gripping the other man’s cock, so impossibly hard now, he strokes him fast and brutal.

Within seconds, Noctis is coming, and it’s the most beautiful thing Ignis has ever seen.

The sight breaks him and then he’s coming so hard, there are stars, constellations, entire galaxies behind his eyes.

He rides out both their orgasms, thrusts gradually slowing and coming to a stop. Noctis’s lips find his and kiss him desperately, his fingers curling into his hair and tugging at his scalp. They stay just like that, wrapped up in each other, come smearing between their bodies, kissing over and over, slowing until they’re gentle and unhurried, steadily and slowly coming down from their high.

He can’t remember the last time he felt this happy.

Gently, he pulls out, careful to avoid spreading the mess between them further. He lays a long, wet kiss on Noctis’s forehead before rolling off the bed and standing, his legs aching and protesting. Turning towards the bathroom, he stops short when Noctis grabs his wrist.

“Don’t go.”

Smiling, he leans into him again and kisses him. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

He walks on sore legs to the bathroom to fetch a washcloth, running it under warm water. A wave of pure happiness hits him and he’s overcome by it, a happy sob escaping him before he can stop it. When he returns, it’s to Noctis pressing his fists against his eyes again, smiling. The sight makes his heart swell.

Embarrassed, Noctis wipes his eyes hurriedly. “Sorry.”

Gingerly, he sits on the edge of the bed, wiping off the mess of their lovemaking from Noctis’s stomach and around his ass. Taking his hand, he kisses his palm and squeezes it tightly. “Don’t apologize. I should be the one apologizing to you.”

Noctis laughs. It’s genuine and pure and wonderful. “The middle of sex isn’t exactly the best time to have a heart to heart.”

Chuckling, he sets the washcloth aside. “Not what I was referring to, but, also for that, yes.”

They fall into their old pattern of playful bickering so quickly, the entire past _year_ disappearing almost instantly. Settling down beside him, Ignis opens his arms towards his prince. Noctis immediately rolls over to fill them, and he sighs happily as Noctis melts into him. He’s not sure how long they lay there like that, arms and legs tangled together, Noctis tracing random patterns across his chest, Ignis slowly and adoringly kissing his hair. Neither make any attempt to move; together like this, at long last, everything finally feels _right_.

He clears his throat, swallowing hard.

“Noctis, I…” he pauses, and Noctis leans up on his elbows to look at him. Those eyes, the exact shade of the night sky just before daybreak, shoot straight to his heart. “I’m sorry, for everything. I’ve handled this whole situation terribly. Every time I see you—” his voice cracks, his vision blurring with tears “—it _hurts_. It hurts knowing I can’t reach out and kiss you or hold you. I thought that by keeping my distance, it would make the transition easier, for both of us, and I’ve been too stubborn to admit I was wrong.”

A soft shade of red colors Noctis’s face, and he quickly wipes the tears from his own eyes. “Specs…”

He manages a soft smile, reaching up with his thumb to brush away Noct’s tears. “I absolutely mean this, from the bottom of my heart: I’m so very happy for you. It’s a wonderful match between you and Lunafreya; I know how happy the two of you are together. It’s all I have ever wanted for you, truly.”

Noctis smiles back briefly, but it quickly fades. He averts his gaze, his fingers fidgeting idly at the bedsheets.

“You don’t… Don’t you wish it was you?”

“Of course I do,” he whispers fiercely. “But, we both knew this was to pass. We knew you were to be married to your future Queen, and to continue your family line. I’ve only ever wished for you to be happy when that time came.”

He hooks his fingertips under Noctis’s jaw and gently tilts his gaze back up. There’s a small smile still lingering on Noct’s lips, and he leans in for another kiss. They lay there curled up in each other, trading slow, gentle kisses, tasting each other lazily and unhurried. 

“Though I must admit,” Ignis says, pulling away. “I fear being found out, and the repercussions to follow, should word of this reach the wrong ears—”

“ _Shhh_. Ignis,” the prince coos. Noctis presses his hands to Ignis’s face, forcing their gazes to meet. His eyes are gentle, but there’s a fire deep inside of them. “I won’t let anything happen to you. This was my idea; you wouldn’t have crossed the line if I hadn’t pushed you over it.”

Noctis leans in and kisses him, tender and loving. It’s perfect.

“I meant what I said,” he whispers. “No matter what happens, I won’t let them hurt you. I promise.”

Smirking, he brings his hand up to brush the fringe out of Noctis’s eyes. “I daresay it’s supposed to be the other way around. Retainer swearing to protect his liege.”

Noctis chuckles, and the sound is music to Ignis’s hears. A serious expression falls across his face, and his eyes sparkle with fresh tears. “Ignis, I love you. I want to protect you, too. I don’t care what our roles are supposed to be.”

Noctis cuddles back into his neck, fingers and limbs curling tighter around him, and Ignis can’t help the soft sigh as he melts against him.


End file.
